Here is a picture of my chairs. Glorious finds from the trash, only to end up back on the curb. I ordered fabric to cover the seats, bought a nearly-reportable amount of spray paint, and sadly, they are right back where they came from.
The chairs that were not meant to be.
I was sanding chair #2 when the front leg snapped off. I have invested emotionally in these trash chairs and find that I want to go spend a ridiculous amount of money on new chairs to recover from this loss. Does BlueCross BlueShield cover retail therapy?
The new outdoor fabric.
The table, another trash find, is another sad story. I was in such a state of euphoria when I saw it by the dumpster, that I failed to notice the text that was carefully etched into the top.
Prima, my surprisingly observant daughter, was the first to notice the script. “Mom? I think there is a problem with your table. Um, it says FU** on it.”
Look closely at the table.
“SH**!” I said, “I mean, ‘NO WAY!’ Who would do such a thing?” and then I apologized for exposing my children to more profanity, intentionally or otherwise.
You know how you worry about what your kids will be exposed to at a friend’s house on the Internet? Well at my house, it’s the graffiti you have to worry about.
Trying to fix it with wood putty.
One afternoon, I received a glorious text message from Stuart: “I sanded the FU** out of your table.”
Sanded!
And we were once again fit for polite company.
But alas, it has been sanded too much, and I am going to put it back on the curb. It is a sad day indeed. Now, I have a porch that needs paint, a new light fixture, AND furniture. But the rug looks nice! However, I am back to the drawing board. Good thing there is an awesome barrel in the basement, just waiting to be the base of my new table.
© copyright 2013 Mariam d’Eustachio.
